Pressing for Love
by stacyo72
Summary: In a time of social upheaval, two strangers from different social circles meet by chance. An instant connection is made, but is love enough to overcome their differences?
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes she preferred working at the steam presses, even though it was miserable work and she could feel the heat of the steam scalding her face and hands. Sometimes if she was careless, she'd catch her fingertips against the hot plates and burn them. But when she worked the steam press, her back was to the windows and she wasn't distracted by the outside world. She didn't see the shift of daylight as the dawn broke over Washington Square and transitioned through each stage of the day towards sunset.

She didn't see the clouds move through the sky, or the rain or snow pelting the arched windows. She didn't see the days of her life passing by in a cloud of steam and cotton fiber dust.

But that was alright. That meant she focused on her job, counted the seconds each piece was pressed, counted the pieces she made and assured herself that her pay wouldn't be docked for a scorched piece of cuff or collar, front or back piece. Center the cuff, pull down the lever and let the steam press do it's job. Pile the pieces, 25 at a time next to the machine, keeping count to make sure she was meeting her quota. Her eyes would drift to the clock over the elevator towards the Washington Place exit after every fourth pile. On a good day, 100 cuffs or collars would equal fifteen minutes. 400 cuffs or collars meant an hour. After 1600, she would get fifteen minutes to eat the sandwich that she packed and wrapped in waxed clothe and kept in her coat pocket, which lay neatly on the floor with her hat and small handbag, on the floor under the machine. And then back to work. If she was ahead of herself, she'd get to take a quick break around noon, to run and use the water closet on the fifth floor and then make it back up to the tenth before falling behind. But only if she was ahead of herself by at least 50 pieces.

Her day ended at 7, in the cold winter that meant it was already dark when she stepped out onto the sidewalk, the new electric street lights that lined Cooper Union Square giving off their buzz, drowned out only by the sound of chatter as the exhausted workers finally gave voice to whatever chatter they'd held in for the last nine hours. Foremen docked them for chatting on the job, unless it was required as part of their duties, which it rarely was.

"Bella!" She heard over the din of the exiting workers and saw a small hand covered in brown leather jumping up over the hats of the ladies as they streamed down the sidewalk. She couldn't help but smile.

"Alice." She said, the smile coming out over her face even as she felt the cold air sting her overheated cheeks.

"You're still coming with me, right?" Mary Alice Brandon was a force to be reckoned with. She'd heard about the meeting at Cooper Union; Local 25 of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union was holding a general meeting for all employees of The Triangle Company (some of whom had already gone on strike) and opening it to all other garment workers regarding workers rights. Alice had latched onto the idea of reforming the system. For weeks there had been murmurs as workers had passed each other in the narrow aisles of the factory about those that had joined the picket lines and the increased violence that they faced. It was rumored that the bosses had hired thugs to beat the striking workers, and prostitutes to join the picket lines so that the police would have no choice but to arrest any woman with them for being street walkers. Each day for nearly two months since the limited strike began, the murmurs grew louder. Things needed to change, and it was clear that a more widespread movement would be the only way.

"Yes, Alice, I promised I would go, but only if we were home by midnight.. That's when my father needs to leave for the docks, and Mama doesn't like to be home alone at night."

Alice hooked her arm through Bella's and let out a happy squeal. How anyone could be so happy after a thirteen hour shift, Bella had no idea. Her arms ached and her neck was sore. She felt closer to her mother's age of 36 than her own 17 years.

"Come on!" Alice said cheerfully pulling her across Waverley Place, "We can walk through the park."

The daylight had long faded as the two young women joined scores of others as they headed east through the park and past the famous white arch. Bella was slightly sad that it was no longer lined with lights from the Hudson-Fulton Festival that had taken place during the late summer. That had been a sight to see, the lights had been strung everywhere, turning night into day for weeks. Even the Brooklyn Bridge had been lit and people had spent those few weeks meandering through the streets to marvel at everything. The park still had a lot of foot traffic from nearby New York University, even if the tiny lights were no longer there, and there were many young men wearing smart suits walking the same way they were. Soon they reached Cooper Union and saw that the line for entrance reached down and around the building. As the line slowly moved and they approached the entrance, Alice tugged on Bella's sleeve.

"Look at that Bella." Alice said coming to a halt at the site of a young man in uniform with curly blond hair stepping out of a well equipped black motor car. . He turned and held his hand out to help a young woman down from the passenger carriage. "Look at that hat! And that dress!" Alice sighed. "One day, I will have that!" Bella followed Alice's eye line, which was clearly focused on the man in uniform.

"The hat, the dress, the motor car, or the man?" Bella asked wryly.

"Any of them." Alice laughed and waved her hand towards the couple. "How about all of them?" She turned to Bella and they both broke out in laughter.

"Come on Mary Alice." Bella pulled her along and Alice couldn't help but look at the blond couple as they fell in behind them.

"Isabella Swan, one day, I'm going to get you to admit that you have dreams and aspirations about something more than spending your days bent over a steam iron at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company."

"That is my dream, Mary Alice Brandon. To not spend my days bent over a steam iron anywhere, ever again." They both laughed as they walked up the stairs and into Cooper Union.

"Edward. Esme." Major Jasper Whitlock greeted the brother and sister as they found their seats inside Cooper Union.

"Rosalie, I'm surprised you made it." Edward Mason said from behind his sister Esme as he reached out and shook the Major's hand.

"Well, Esme has been talking about this pet project of hers for days, so I thought I'd see what she was all fired up about." Rosalie looked around the meeting room, her cool blue eyes assessing the crowd of mostly young women speaking in Yiddish and Italian, or with heavy Irish accents or the occasional dreadful lower class New York accent bleeding through. Edward got the impression that if she could, she would be any where in the world other than here, but that her older brother Carlisle had insisted she come. Carlisle was Esme's husband, and he was on the board of the Anti-Tubercular committee for the city. He worked as a doctor at St. Vincent's Hospital and worked long hard hours after his shifts going through the tenements of the city to help eradicate the disease. As a medical student himself, Edward applauded his brother in law's actions and looked forward to the time that he could work along side him. When Carlisle and Esme had gotten married, Carlisle's progressive political leanings had rubbed off on his young brother in law. Only 15 at the time, Edward had been impressionable, and looked up to the young doctor. Edward and Esme had been orphaned for three years at the point, and at first Edward had been wary that Carlisle was only interested in Esme for her inheritance. But soon it became obvious that their's was a love match and Carlisle loved Esme despite her fortune, not because of it. Their marriage had caused a ripple in New York society, and even now they were still on the fringes of Mrs. Astor's 400 despite their wealth and family history as true Knickerbockers.

It was through Carlisle that they'd made the acquaintance of Major Jasper Whitlock. He'd been a doctor with the Army Medical Corps stationed in Panama, working alongside Colonel William Gorgas towards eradicating yellow fever and malaria. Now he was stationed in the city working with Carlisle on other airborne illnesses. Carlisle had hoped that his sister Rosalie would make a match with the handsome military officer, but those hopes had been dashed rather quickly. While Rosalie had no problem being escorted around town by him, she had her sites set much much higher in society, namely Royce King III, whose father was a real estate magnate in the city and a crony of JP Morgan.

The din of voices in the hall grew louder and further conversation amongst their party became too difficult to maintain, so Edward found himself looking around the room.

Most of the attendees were either students who held progressive political views, or young women, younger than himself even at 20. Not more than teenagers really. But he could tell that they lived much harder lives than he had, and that aged them. They carried themselves proudly and he couldn't help but admire that. There was no anger in the air, just steely determination. He couldn't help but think that it was because it was women leading this movement. If it were, say the stevedores, the atmosphere would be completely different. But these women, from different nations and religions, were banding together to help make the world a better place.

Esme had told him about the reasons behind this meeting, and it was all the talk on campus amongst the political set; the workers were demanding better wages and working conditions, shorter work days and set salaries instead of piece work. There were some that were calling for full out unionization of the garment industry and the word strike was whispered from person to person as if it were a sin to say it too loud.

Edward and Esme had arrived early so that they could secure seats for their party, about midway through the audience, on the outside aisle. He turned and looked to his left and realized that there were more people than seats. There were two young women standing at the end of their row and Edward's ingrained sense of propriety demanded that he stand.

"Esme, Rose, would you mind moving down?" he asked as he stood. Jasper quickly gleaned his intent and also stood.

"Ladies." Jasper drawled in his southern accent as he gestured towards the two seats that were now available.

"Oh," The smaller of the two stood and stared at Jasper for a moment before she smiled demurely. "We couldn't." She said looking down.

"We insist." Edward said looking at her companion. For a second he felt as if he'd been poleaxed as her brown eyes met his. He didn't know what it was about her, but something called to him. Her hair was an unremarkable brown, hidden mostly under a hideous black hat, she dressed simply in a white shirtwaist and black skirt and was clutching a black coat in her arms. But her eyes…Her eyes met his and he felt as if the world was suddenly righted, and he's never been aware that it wasn't on it's axis. She blushed bright red and looked away from him, mumbling her thanks, and he wanted to reach out to her, say something, anything, just to prolong their contact.

Her friend smiled at Jasper and sat next to Esme who smiled at her. And then she stepped past him to take a seat and stumbled slightly. Edward took her arm to steady her and felt as if he were truly alive for the first time in his life.

"Beg your pardon miss." He said holding on to her until she steadied.

"Th-thank you." She said quietly, meeting his eyes once again. He nodded and smiled, and with reluctance let her arm go so she could sit. He took his place next to Jasper against the wall and soon the meeting came to order, and he couldn't help but divide his attention between the speakers and the young woman sitting on the aisle.

Bella could feel the eyes of the young man standing next to the wall on her. She was trying to pay attention to the speakers who were making the case of the workers plight with passion while the union leaders spoke of prudence and caution, but the young man's green eyes were on her and the hair on the back of her neck was prickling. She desperately wanted to turn and look at him, but was too embarrassed. He was dressed so finely, in a black suit and his coat was draped over his arm. She could just see that out of the corner of her eye. It was such a fine wool, Bella knew that he came from money. But the difference didn't matter to her heart, which was beating a mile a minute. Oh how she wished she could have done more than just blushed and stammered at him. And when he held her hand..?

The young woman who sat next to Alice was the one they had seen get out of the fancy motor car. Her dress was a beautiful blue fabric the color of a summer storm cloud, that Bella could only assume was silk by the way it flowed. Bella sat stiffly, feeling the hole in the toe of her stockings and her fingers played with the fraying seam on her skirt. She took a deep breath and looked around, taking note that most people in the hall were dressed more like her and she took a bit of comfort in that. It was clear that the foursome surrounding them were here in the spirit of social activism and had no real connection to the world of the working people, the immigrants and the dock workers.

"Bella! Look!" Alice grabbed her arm and nearly stood up as she craned her neck towards the stage and thankfully broke Bella away from her useless thoughts.

Working her way slowly up the steps towards the podium was a young woman that both Alice and Bella had worked with. Her name was Clara Lemlich, a Russian Jew who'd been one of the most outspoken of their co-workers at the factory. She had lead the small group of workers out on strike in September and she'd been beaten while picketing, the bruises were barely faded from her face as she slowly walked across the stage with a barely hidden limp.

She began to speak in Yiddish.

"What?" The redheaded woman sitting next to Alice whispered. "What is she saying?"

Alice began to translate, and the two finely dressed women leaned in to hear her. The two young men leaned over Bella to hear what Alice was saying, and Bella could just catch the slightest hint of the young man's cologne.

"I have listened to all the speakers, and I have no further patience for talk. I am a working girl, one of those striking against intolerable conditions. I am tired of listening to speakers who talk in generalities. What we are here for is to decide whether or not to strike. I make a motion that we go out on a general strike."*

As soon as she finished speaking there was an uproar through half of the crowd, and a murmur through the other half as her words were translated from one to another. The cheering grew louder and louder as people understood what the incredibly young woman had said. People got to their feet and cheered, clapped and began to chant strike, strike, strike!

Alice was among them on her feet cheering along. Bella stood, but didn't cheer. The thought of walking out on her job had her paralyzed with fear. The two dollars a day she bought home helped pay for her families food. Her father's salary went towards their rent on the two room apartment, and the money her mother made taking in laundry helped, but it was Bella's pay that afforded them to eat. How could she possibly walk away from a job, no matter how miserable it was?

After Clara was done speaking, a vote was taken, and it was decided that a general strike was the way to go. An oath was sworn, and as much as it pained her, Bella took it, "if I turn traitor to the cause I now pledge may this hand wither from the arm I now raise."

Her heart was pounding as the crowd began to exit, and Bella stood slowly.

"Are you going to do it?" She heard from beside her. The finely dressed young man asked. "Are you going to strike?" He asked, his concern etched clearly on his face as if he knew what it meant to her.

"I…I don't know." She answered him honestly and he gave her a small smile that gave her courage.

"Of course we are Bella." Alice said from next to her, still bouncing with excitement from the emotion of the crowd around them.

"Alice…" Bella said quietly, willing her friend to be quiet.

"Bella! We swore an oath! You know as well as I do, that we can't go on this way." She turned towards the blonde woman when she began speaking.

"Why don't you just find a different job, a better job? Though from what I have read, you won't find anything better than the Triangle Company." The blond woman said standing up next to Alice. Bella understood that this woman had no idea what she was saying. She was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt that she meant well, but Alice couldn't be stopped.

"There are no better jobs for people like us." Alice said, her voice rising in passion. "Yes, The Triangle Shirtwaist Company is the biggest and most modern factory in the garment industry. I started working at a different factory when I was 15," the two young men winced at that, and the red headed woman's face took on a pinched look, "At my old job,I used to have to carry my own sewing machine with me to work and back everyday, it was foot pedal operated. But at the Triangle Company, we have electric machines! Do you know how much easier that makes it? We went from making 34 pieces an hour to well over a hundred, though the owners take that into account when they do your piece count at the end of the day it's not as if we get more money per piece now.. And while it makes things easier, you have no idea how awful it is. We're not allowed to talk to one another. We're not allowed to sing, or hum. If we do, our pay is docked. If we damage a piece of fabric, or break a sewing needle, our pay is docked." She held up her hand and the nail of her index finger was black and a scab was visible on her finger tip. "I did this two days ago. Ran the machine right through my finger. I was docked for damaging the collar that I was sewing, and wrapped it in a scrap of fabric to keep from bleeding on anything else. At the end of the day, when I was leaving, I had to unwrap it and throw that piece of scrap material in the scrap bucket, or I would have been fired for taking materials out with me."

"I…" The blonde said, eyes wide, not knowing what to say, but Alice wasn't done.

"Tomorrow morning, I want you to wake up when the sun rises and go down to your kitchen, if you know where that is, and set a large pot of water to boil. Once it's boiling, I want you to stand over it and lift it up over your head every thirty seconds for four hours. Only then are you allowed to eat, but you have to do it still standing over that pot of boiling water, and you can only take five minutes to use the facilities. You are not allowed to talk, you are not allowed to move away from that pot of boiling water, no matter what. Always lifting it over your head, every thirty seconds, until the sun sets. But do it knowing, that you are in the best kitchen, so you should be grateful for the privilege. That's what Bella does, every day for thirteen hours working the steam presses. And do you know what she gets paid for the privilege of working at Triangle? Two dollars a day. Unless she burns a piece then that comes out of her pay. So she's gotten very good at not burning pieces." Bella felt all their eyes swing her way and she could feel the blush rise on her cheeks.

"Thank you for explaining that to us Miss…" The redheaded woman said from behind the blonde.

"Brandon. Mary Alice Brandon." Alice supplied. "And this is Isabella Swan." Alice said taking Bella's arm and pulling her close.

"I'm Esme Masen Cullen." The redhead said as if her name should mean something to them, and stuck out her hand. Alice took it. "I'm so very interested in your cause. This is my sister in law, Rosalie Cullen," she motioned to the blonde who nodded, chastised by Alice's speech, "this is Major Jasper Whitlock, and my brother, Edward Masen." Mrs. Cullen introduced the men and Alice almost swooned when the Major took her hand.

"Miss Brandon." He said taking her hand. "Miss Swan." He inclined his head towards Bella, but didn't let go of Alice's hand.

"Ladies." Edward Masen inclined his head towards both women, but his eyes stayed on Bella, who could only look down at her scuffed boots and shuffle uncomfortably.

Bella was vaguely aware of the conversation that Esme was having with Alice and Major Whitlock, about how she spoke Yiddish because of the years she spent working with the Eastern European Jewish girls and her out going personality , "I also speak Russian, some German and a bit of Italian because of Bella's mother." Alice pulled Bella closer to her side, and Bella felt Edward's eyes staring at her again.

"And do you speak Yiddish, Miss Swan?" Edward asked her.

"Uh, a little. But mostly just English and Italian. My mother is Italian." She said quietly feeling stupid because Alice had just said that. Edward leaned towards her to hear her over the din of the waning crowd and was about to say something when his sister spoke.

"Italiano? Carlisle and I went to Venice on our honeymoon." Mrs Cullen said, her voice excited. "Have you ever been?"

"Um, no. I was born on the lower east side." Bella said apologetically. "My mother left when she was a little girl. I don't think we have any family left there."

"Esme, we should get going. Carlisle will be home soon and expecting us for dinner." Rosalie said suddenly.

"Oh well, I suppose you're right Rose. Thank you Miss Brandon, Miss Swan for giving us a better insight into the issues facing the garment workers." Bella could tell she meant that earnestly, there was no patronizing in her tone at all and she couldn't help but be buoyed by that. "I wish you both the best of luck, and please know that you have my support for what it's worth."

Bella fervently wished that her support was worth the two dollars a day that would be missing from her families coffers, but knew that was in vane. She nodded politely however and smiled at the elegant woman.

"Edward? Are you coming?" Rosalie asked him, giving the two garment workers the barest of glances as she moved past them.

"No actually. I have some work still to do for an upcoming exam, but I'll be home later. I'm sure Jasper will be more than happy to see you and Esme home."

Jasper was currently in conversation with Alice, and hadn't heard him.

"I'm sure we'll be perfectly fine without him, won't we Rose?" Esme said before moving to give her brother a kiss on the cheek. With that, the two women moved down the aisle and out the door.

"Alice, we should go." Bella said tugging on her sleeve, interrupting her conversation with Major Whitlock.

"But Bella…" Alice said, clearly not wanting to leave just yet.

"I'd be more than happy to see you home Miss Brandon." The major offered and looked to Edward.

"Miss Swan, please? Let me see you home?" Edward offered.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to take you away from your studies." Bella was mortified by the idea of him walking her home and seeing the tenement where she shared two rooms with her parents in the Bowery.

"It's nothing that can't wait, and it would be my pleasure." Edward said and held out his arm for her.

"I'll see you tomorrow Bella." Alice said happily from Major Whitlock's side.

Edward motioned for Bella to move ahead of him and she walked up the aisle to the door, pausing in the vestibule to don her thread bare coat, noticing as he put on his, which was made of the finest wool she'd ever seen. Once he put on his hat, he held his arm out for her. "Shall we?" He asked.

"Thank you." She put her hand in the crook of his elbow and walked down the stairs with him.

Edward couldn't help but think he was going mad. He could swear he felt the heat of Bella's small hand through the layers of clothes on his arm, but that was impossible. He noticed that she was wearing thread bare black woolen gloves, and then noticed that the cuff of her coat was frayed. He felt guilty for the fine clothes he was wearing, but knew that she would take great offense at that.

"Um, this way." Bella said motioning south on towards the Bowery.

"How long have you worked at the Triangle Company?" Edward asked as the crossed 6th street.

"Almost a year." Bella answered. "My mother worked there, but she was sick and couldn't work anymore, she talked the foremen into letting me work for her."

"How old are you?" he couldn't help but ask.

"17." Bella said defensively and then shot back, "How old are you?"

"20." Edward said on a laugh, liking that she showed spirit. "I'm a student at New York University. I'm hoping to follow in my brother in law Carlisle's footsteps and become a doctor."

"A doctor? You must be very smart." Bella said and then blushed.

"Hopefully smart enough." Edward laughed.

"I never went to school. My father taught me to read and do math, but, school? I never." She crinkled her nose and shook her head.

"Well, I'd say you're lucky. When I was younger I couldn't wait to get out of my lessons, and now I've doomed myself to at least six more years between this and medical school."

"Six years?" Bella said and let out a wry laugh. "I don't know what I'll be doing six days from now, let alone six years."

They were both quiet as they walked down the Bowery and Bella motioned to the left to turn onto Delancey St.

"Are you really going to strike?" Edward asked her again.

Bella sighed. "I don't know." She said, and then, "Yes." Her voice was firm.

"What will happen if you do?" He asked.

"I'll go onto the picket line, I guess. Join the rest of them."

"That's very dangerous." He said, thinking of the stories of the protests that he'd read about. Beatings and intimidation, reports of corrupt police officers arresting protesters with impunity. The stories in some newspapers made it out that they were ungrateful radicals, looking for hand outs. But from what he'd seen tonight, he knew that wasn't the case.

"Nothing will change if no one takes a stand to change it." She said, but there was a strength in her voice now.

"I admire you Bella." Edward said after a moment, and met her surprised look with a smile. "You have everything to lose, yet you're risking everything, to stand up to something much bigger than yourself, and to say that it's not right, it's not fair and it needs to change. You're making a stand for your ideals"

"Well, let's just hope that everyone else agrees with you and the strike ends quickly." She shivered and pulled her coat around her tighter as a gust of wind blew down the street. "It's only going to get colder as winter comes, and ideals don't exactly pay for coal to heat my family's apartment." Her lips quirked into a smile and he couldn't help but laugh at her spirit, and when she joined in with him, he felt his heart quicken.

"But I am serious." He told her as they turned down another side street. "I admire what you are doing. You are making a change in the world, trying to right a wrong. There are so many people in this world who just go along and put their heads down, just get through. But what's the point of that?" He asked rhetorically and Bella hmm'ed her agreement. "I think that's why I want to be a doctor. My brother in law, Carlisle. He came into Esme and my life at a time when I was lost, confused by the death of my parents. He was so warm and caring, not only to Esme, but to me. And then I realized he is that way with his patients, at the hospital and down here and in other places in the city where the disadvantaged live. He gives the same care to them as he would to Mrs. Astor or Mr. Vanderbilt."

Bella let out a small laugh. "You say their names as if you know them." Bella looked up at him. "Oh my, you do, don't you?"

"Well…" Edward hedged and shrugged his shoulders and Bella stopped walking, Edward took a step or two before he realized she'd stopped and turned to look at him.

"You know the Astor's and the Vanderbilt's…" She shook her head. "Why are you here, with me?" Her voice was filled with wonder and genuine curiosity.

Edward stepped in front of her and took her hands in his. "Because the first time I saw you, something called out to me. It was as if your soul reached out and sang to mine."

"We belong to different worlds." Bella shook her head and looked down at their joined hands, hers in tattered woolen gloves, his in fine kid leather. "You speak of becoming a doctor, high society. I'll be lucky if I can help my parents afford our rent this month."

"None of that matters." Edward began and gently squeezed Bella's hands when she began to protest. "It doesn't matter. I'm just a man, you're just a woman. The rest of it is….window dressing."

"Isabella." A male voice called out and the both looked away from each other. A tall dark haired mustachioed man was coming down the stairs of a tenement on their left. His eyes narrowed when he saw Bella's hands in Edward's."Your mother's waiting upstairs for you."

"Oh." Bella said and took her hand from Edward's arm, he missed it immediately. "Edward Masen, this is my father Charlie Swan. This is Edward Masen, he was at Cooper Union tonight and offered to see me home." She explained to her father.

Charlie Swan eyed Edward up and down, and his gaze was glacial as he reluctantly took the hand Edward offered without a word.

"What was decided?" Mr. Swan asked.

Bella bit her lip and then said quietly, "Strike."

"Damn." Her father said just as quietly. "Well," He let out a sigh, "We'll get through it. Alright then, go on up to your mother. I have to get to work." He turned and walked towards the river, his shoulders back, head held high.

"He works down at the docks." Bella explained motioning towards the retreated figure.

"Right." Edward nodded, not knowing what else to say. "Thank you, for allowing me to see you home."

"Thank you for seeing me home. It was nice meeting you." She turned to go up the stairs, only stopping when Edward called her name.

"May I see you again?" He asked, coming up to the first step. With her standing on the third step, they were the same height.

"Why?" She asked shaking her head, her brow crinkling adorably.

"What do you mean, why?" He asked, truly confused.

"I saw the car that drove your sister and Rosalie to Cooper Union. I saw the way they were dressed, the way you're dressed. You come from a family where becoming a doctor is normal. I've never gone to school, my parents have never gone to school, I live in a tenement in the Bowery…so, yes. Why?"

"I don't know." Edward answered honestly. "Maybe because I've never met anyone like you. Anyone as strong as you are, anyone willing to risk what you're risking, and doing it fearlessly."

"Fearlessly?" Bella laughed. "Hardly. I'm scared to death about what's about to happen."

"But you're going to do it anyway." He said.

"Yes I am." She said firmly.

"And that's why I want to see you again." He took her hand in his. She let out a breath that sounded halfway between a sob and a sigh.

"I think I'm going to be busy for the next little while on a picket line."

"Well, then I'll know where to find I will find you, I will see you again. This isn't goodbye." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Good night Isabella Swan." He squeezed her hand once and then turned and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

No copyright infringement intended. All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer. See end of chapter for notes. Beta'd by Michduran.

Bella willed herself not to look back at Edward as she entered her building, a small smile escaping at the thought that he wanted to see her again. That smile was quickly erased when she realized that it was after ten o'clock and the lights in the hall and stairways were already out. She let out a small sigh as she climbed the darkened stairway to the third floor and the rooms she shared with her parents. The smell of boiled cabbage and unwashed bodies filled her nose as the wooden stairs creaked under her feet.

Fishing her key out of her bag, she tried not to rattle the lock too badly and alarm her mother. The apartment was dimly lit by the dull glow of the fireplace embers and the moonlight that came through the apartment's sole window overlooking Delancey Street.

"Bella Mia? Is that you?" She heard her mother Renee call out from the bedroom.

"Yes Mama," She set her purse down and took off her hat, sticking the pin in the brim and setting in on its hook, "I hope I didn't wake you."

The sound of shuffling came from the bedroom, and Renee emerged wearing her nightgown and robe, her dark hair peppered with grey strands hanging loosely over her shoulders. She lit one of the oil lamps that sat on the little table set between her and Charlie's rocking chairs as Bella added a log to the fire, making the room glow with the light of false warmth.

"Of course, I waited for you," Renee scoffed as she moved towards the kitchen, "I have your supper set aside and left water on for you to wash."

"I can get it, Mama," Bella rushed to her mother's side and reached for her hands to still her from getting the food together. She rubbed them briskly. "You should be in bed; your hands are like ice."

"It is always so cold in here," Renee pulled them away and then laughed, "unless it is summer, and then it is boiling."

Bella smiled, thinking about the nights when she and her mother sat on the roof with other families from the building in a vain attempt to escape the brutal heat that built up during the summer months. The weather may have been uncomfortable, but the company of the other families that shared their building was always welcome. The Blacks, the McCarty's, the Uley's and the Quill's were always good company, as well as good friends. More than once the families had banded together to help one another through the tough times, as well as celebrating the good.

"Well, it's cold tonight, I heard talk of snow," Bella said, helping Renee sit at the table in the cane chair.

"So your father says. He said his knees are creaking."

Renee watched as Bella served herself some soup from the stove and took a chunk of bread from the bread box. She waited until Bella sat before asking.

"And this meeting tonight? What has happened?"

Bella took a deep breath. "We are striking."

She quickly took a spoonful of the soup, hoping her mother wouldn't argue with her, or worse begin crying or yelling. Renee was known to speak in rapid fire Italian at high volume when her ire was up. Bella prayed quickly that this was not one of those times.

"Oh Isabella," Renee said quietly. "Eat your soup," she instructed and then sat back observe as Bella did. Her dark eyes watching silently until Bella began to squirm

"Mama, things will never get better if we don't do this," Bella argued and Renee waived away her words.

"Yes, yes. I know this," she said impatiently, "but this doesn't help put food on our table."

She waved at the food that Bella had in front of her. She let out a long sad sigh before adding "I will take in more mending. Your father can find extra shifts."

"Mama…" Bella said sorrowfully.

"Ah no," Renee patted her hand and stood up slowly, "it is done. Now I go to sleep knowing you are home safe. Goodnight Bella Mia," Renee kissed her on her forehead and shuffled off to bed.

The soup that had smelled so inviting now made her feel sick. The bread felt like a lead weight in her stomach. She quickly finished what was before her and took her bowl and spoon to the sink. The water pump squeaked as she pumped out enough cold water to rinse them. It made her fingers ache.

She set her bowl and spoon in the cabinet above the sink, and moved to the chest in the corner to pull out her bed roll. A pile of thick woolen blankets made up her bed, a thin blanket on top and a quilt made by her grandmother in Ireland and a pillow with lace trim on the cover. She took the lamp with her into the hallway and quickly used the water closet they shared with the McCarty's, before locking herself and her mother in their flat.

She pulled off her shirtwaist and hung in neatly on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and used the water on the stove top and a flannel cloth to wash herself quickly, the warm water quickly cooling on her skin and making her shiver. Her skirt went on the back of the other chair and she pulled on her long white nightgown over her undergarments before she took the pins out of her hair and began brushing it out. She smiled as she thought of Alice and her outlandish idea of cutting her hair, if for no other reason than it would dry quicker after its weekly washing. Perhaps Alice had a good idea.

Bella blew out the lamp and climbed into her bed, her mind racing with thoughts about what would happen when the strike began. The nights events replayed over and over in her mind, but as she drifted off to sleep, she did so with the image of Edward Cullen's smile overriding everything else.

The next morning when Edward entered the sun filled dining room for breakfast, he found Carlisle alone, reading his morning paper, as the day maid, Angela, set out a plate of toast. The radiator ticked in the corner as it let off heat, competing with the Victrola that played the latest recording by George M. Cohan.

"Good morning," he said after he had poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the side board.

"Good morning Edward," Carlisle replied, setting his paper aside and turning his attention to his brother-in-law.

"Is Esme unwell?" Edward asked as he served himself ham and eggs and joined Carlisle at the table.

"Esme is in the kitchen," Carlisle told him. "She's standing over a pot of boiling water."

"Ah," Edward said and smiled, remembering the impassioned speech that Mary Alice Brandon had given them.

"Edward, why is Esme standing over a pot of boiling water? When I asked she wouldn't answer me," Carlisle looked truly mystified.

"A young woman we met last night described what it was like to work the steam presses at the Triangle Factory. I guess Esme is trying it out," Edward shrugged as he picked up the proper spoon to scoop up eggs. "They aren't allowed to speak, so I imagine that is why Esme couldn't tell you."

"Why on Earth…" Carlisle's words were drowned out when a clatter arose from behind the door that lead to the kitchen. Both Edward and Carlisle stood and rushed into the room to find the housekeeper, Mrs. Cope, mopping up water and a near hysterical Esme sitting on the floor, the front of her morning dress wet.

"Esme darling…" Carlisle rushed to kneel next to her, "did you burn yourself?"

"No," Esme sniffed her assurance, "the water mostly spilled on the stove top and the floor. Oh Carlisle, I can not stand it!" She turned into her husband's arms.

"When I think of those poor girls, and I couldn't last an hour! An hour Carlisle! I lifted the pot for about ten minutes, but then my arms just wouldn't do it. And then I stood there, the heat was unbearable! And you came in and I wanted to talk to you, but I couldn't! And then I tried to lift the pot again, but my arms gave out," Esme sobbed into Carlisle's shoulder.

"It's alright darling," Carlisle rubbed her back.

"No it's not alright," Esme snapped and stood up as quickly as her skirts allowed, not letting Carlisle help her to her feet. "Right now, less than five miles from here, there is a young woman who is working a steam press. She will be standing there for the next twelve hours doing this, and for what? Two dollars a day! That's all she'll get for hour upon hour of back breaking work."

"Actually Esme, she won't be," Edward reminded her. "She and her co-workers are going on strike."

"Yes they are," Esme said and used the handkerchief Carlisle handed her to wipe her tears. "And I am going to find a way to help them," Esme swept out of the kitchen in a whirl of skirts and outrage.

"What exactly was she doing again?" Carlisle asked Edward.

"Stand over the pot of boiling water, lift it over her head every thirty seconds for thirteen hours," Edward informed him. "No talking, one bathroom break, fifteen minutes for lunch."

"Hmm," Carlisle said with a grimace on his face. He leaned over and picked up the cast iron pot from the floor. Lifting it to shoulder height he then sat it on the stove and looked at it as if it would give him answers. "Thirteen hours you say?"

"Hmm," Edward hummed with a nod and Carlisle sighed sadly.

"I have a feeling your sister has found a new crusade to champion," Carlisle said as they returned to the dining room.

"She's not the only one, I'm afraid," Edward confessed. "These young women need to be supported in this Carlisle. It's not right how they are treated."

"You don't have to argue their case to me Edward," Carlisle assured him, "I know what the conditions are like in these factories, in the tenements where they live. Things are improving slowly, but they are improving. Look here," he pointed to the page of the New York Times that he had been reading, "infectious diseases are decreasing and the spread of Tuberculosis has gone down to just below three per one thousand. Measles, mumps, rubella, all down."

Edward skimmed the article and took in the figures just released from the year before.

"I know that conditions are bad, but they are getting better," Carlisle argued.

"And hopefully this strike will improve them even more," Edward sipped his coffee.

"Yes, hopefully. But there are groups that will use this strike to put forth their own agendas. The Ladies Garment Workers Union is filled with socialists and communists from Eastern Europe," he shook his head sadly, "their ideas are not popular here."

"Hmm," Edward hummed in agreement. He'd honestly never followed any of the news about the Unions before. The only reason he'd gone to the meeting was to give Carlisle peace of mind that Esme and Rosalie would be safe. But hearing the speakers and meeting Alice and most especially, Bella, had made him interested, gave him a face to put on the struggle.

"I worry for these poor girls Edward," Carlisle said as he tapped his index finger on the table, "not only for the conditions that they currently are in, but for the factions that will use this strike to put forth their radical agendas. There are too many groups that will use them to meet their own ends."

Edward picked up the paper and as he ate, read the report of the previous evening's meeting. His mind filled with the images of last night, and he wondered how, if in any way, he could help.

"I'm off to the hospital," Carlisle stood and excused himself.

Edward looked to the clock on the mantle and realized he had to be leaving for a lecture as well. He took a piece of toast with him as he headed out to get to class. Banner, their butler, was waiting at the door with Edward's coat and satchel and helped Edward get situated as he headed out for the day.

I'd like to thank everyone for the support in the Age of Edward contest. And huge thanks to my beta and Durannie BFF MichDuran. Without her help and encouragement, I never would have written this.


	3. Chapter 3

The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended. Beta'd by the lovely ShellyDuran.

 _Trigger warning for period typical language and biases- see end chapter notes._

[*****]

The day after the meeting, it was eerie on the work floor. No one made eye contact. No one even tried to sneak a quick whisper to their neighbor. The foremen seemed extra vigilant and yelled whenever someone looked up from their work. Bella could feel the tension in the air and it made her already miserable job even more miserable.

Wiping her forehead with her sleeve, she quickly peeked up and saw Alice across the room, head down and working furiously at her sewing machine. As if she could feel eyes on her, she looked up, met Bella's gaze and mouthed something to her. Almost immediately, Sam, one of the biggest of the foremen was yelling at her to keep working. Alice startled. Bella saw a flicker of pain in her eyes and realized that she must've run through her finger again.

She didn't dare look around again, just worked until it was time to leave for the day.

It was bitingly cold outside after the heat of the steam presses. A light flurry of snow was falling as Bella stepped into the night with a crowd of her co-workers. She waited by the lightpost for Alice so they could walk home together.

Once on the sidewalk the girls from the factory began to chatter about what to expect the next day.

"Bella!" Alice's chipper voice cut through the din of noise and Bella gave her a weary smile.

"So," Alice began, "tomorrow, we walk out at nine. We're to head towards the Union Shop on the East Side. We join the union and we picket," her voice was filled with excitement and Bella once again was filled with wonder at Alice's spirit.

"Alright," Bella agreed.

"Union membership costs twenty–five cents, if you're not able to cover it…" Alice trailed off.

"No, no, I can do that. Papa put aside some money. He knew there would be a price," even to her own ears, her voice sounded tired and scared.

"Bella," Alice took her arm and hugged it to her side. "It'll be alright. You'll see! Things are looking up for us, especially after last night," she said with a wicked smile.

"Oh?" Bella asked her friend as they crossed through Washington Square Park. She saw the students from the University walking to and fro and tried to pretend that she wasn't searching for one in particular.

"Oh Bella, Jasper is amazing!" Alice chirped. "He walked me home, but stopped to buy me a cup of coffee and dinner at the diner. We talked for hours and hours. He asked to take me to dinner again, this time a real dinner in a real restaurant. Can you believe it?"

"I can," Bella assured her friend. "Just be sure that Major Whitlock treats you the right way."

"Oh he will. He spoke of his family back home in Texas. Can you believe it? Texas, Bella. His family owns a ranch near Galveston. He has a younger sister who is married and has two children: a boy and a girl…"

Bella couldn't help but laugh as Alice described Major Jasper Whitlock's entire family history.

"Stop it you," Alice said and playfully smacked Bella's arm. "Anyway, what about you? The very handsome Mister Edward Masen walked you home," Alice sing-songed as she swung her purse back and forth.

"Well, yes. But there was no stop at the diner for us."

"So..?" Alice pried.

"He walked me home and we spoke about the strike. Papa was waiting at the stoop and I introduced them. And then we said goodbye."

"That's it?" Alice asked sounding upset.

"Well," Bella hedged, "he mentioned he would see me again. But, really Alice, why would he?"

"Bella, why wouldn't he?"

"He's studying to be a doctor. His family clearly has money. There's no reason a man like him would be interested in a girl like me." All of the girls had heard tales of the rich students taking advantage of the girls from the work floor. Sometimes the temptation of making easy money by less than reputable means was too great for them to refuse. It was hard to judge them too harshly when the cold winds blew and the larder was empty.

"Don't do that Bella. Don't sell yourself short. You are just as good as the Edward Masens of the world."

"Bella Mia!" They both looked up at Bella's building to see Renee leaning out of the window to their apartment. "You come in right now, you are late for supper!"

"I somehow can't picture someone in Edward's life leaning out the front window and shouting at him that he's late for supper," Bella said and both she and Alice laughed.

[*****]

"Edward Masen, you are late!" Esme announced from the top of the stairs when Edward came into the foyer.

Esme had scheduled a night out at Carnegie Hall to see an Italian opera singer, but he'd lingered after his Anatomy and Physiology lecture trying to see if he could spot Bella coming out of the Triangle Factory at the end of the work day.

Edward didn't know what to expect when he walked through Washington Square Park on his way to class that morning. With the excitement of the previous night, he thought that maybe he'd see some activity. A small crowd of garment union strikers had set up a booth in the park earlier in the fall, but there was really no increase in activity at that spot. He couldn't help but feel a little let down by that.

He sat through a Biology lecture followed by an Anatomy and Physiology lecture. He felt like a masher as he watched the crowd that came out of the factory at the end of the day, afraid that he'd be pushing his intentions upon her. Still, he couldn't help but feel disappointed when he didn't see Bella or her friend before he caught the trolley towards home.

"Forgive me Esme, my lecture ran late," he said as he bounded up the stairs.

"Your clothes are laid out; we are leaving in fifteen minutes to meet the Kings for dinner. If we're late, Rosalie will have your head!" She threatened as he rushed by her and into his room.

Usually a night of music would be just the kind of thing he'd enjoy, but the idea that he'd missed an opportunity to see Bella left him feeling unsettled. His mood was made even worse because having dinner with the Kings meant listening to the pontifications of Royce C. King Sr. The father of Rosalie's potential love interest was a self-made man, and considered new money by the establishment. He was known for loudly sharing his opinions on everything with everyone within earshot, rarely following the accepted rules of etiquette. More than once, Rosalie had commented on how he embarrassed her when she and Royce Jr. had been out with him in public. Never the less, he had made the commitment to attend this evening, and he would see it through.

He quickly dressed and with the assistance of Banner had his tie and tails looking top shape. He rushed downstairs to see Rosalie and Esme finishing their sherry.

"It's about time." Rosalie groused standing and handing her glass to Angela without a word of thanks.

"Rose, as always you look stunning," Edward nodded towards her. Though he thought her personality was at best prickly, he couldn't fault her appearance. She was wearing a pale pink gown and, with the assistance of Banner, shrugged into a white fur cape.

"New dress?" He inquired as he put on his white gloves.

"Yes, just came from Paris. It's a Worth," Rosalie said it in a manner that Edward assumed was supposed to mean something to him.

"Shall we?" Carlisle asked entering the room and motioned towards the foyer.

"And where are we meeting the Kings this evening?" Edward asked once the motor car had pulled away from the curb.

"The Waldorf Astoria, of course," Rosalie sniffed.

"Oh, of course," Edward mocked.

"Edward." Carlisle said quietly, warning his brother-in-law to behave.

Edward sat back and listened as they conversed about the day's events until they arrived at the lavish hotel.

They made their way to the restaurant and were met by the maître d'hotel.

"Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen, as always it is a pleasure."

"Oscar, it is also a pleasure to see you," Esme said. The man kissed her hand as they handed over their hats, gloves and coats to the waiting staff.

"Your guests have arrived and are waiting at your table, this way," Oscar motioned them forward. Edward hid a small laugh behind his hand and tried to disguise it as a cough, though by the look Rose shot him, he wasn't successful. It would rather annoy Mr. King that he was considered Esme's guest, rather than the other way around.

Edward looked around the room as they made their way to their table and spotted many people he knew were the cream of New York society, members of Mrs. Astor's Four Hundred. While Carlisle wasn't on that list himself, through his marriage to Esme, he and Rose were often given access to the elite world. Edward was also sought out for invitations, due to his single status and wealth, but rarely took advantage of them.

A booming voice called out "Carlisle! Esme!" Every head in the place turned and looked at the boisterous figure of R.C. King, which was no doubt his intention, even if it did cause a murmur of shock to pass through the room.

"Good Lord," Rosalie whispered, but fixed a beaming smile upon her face.

"R.C., Royce," Carlisle nodded to acknowledge them once they were within speaking range. R.C. sank back into his chair before Rosalie and Esme were seated and it grated on Edward's nerves.

"No Lydia this evening?" Carlisle asked, referring to Mrs. King, as he sat Esme and Edward sat Rosalie.

"No, she was feeling a bit under the weather," Royce answered for his father.

"Nothing serious I hope," Carlisle asked with true concern.

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you," R.C. boomed.

The next few minutes were occupied with ordering from Oscar and polite conversation about the weather. Dinner was served quickly and conversation, while sometimes awkward with R.C., moved along. After the meal, Esme and Rosalie excused themselves to the ladies' tea room, while R.C. bowled his way towards the men's lounge.

Cigars were passed around. Edward abstained, but did take a brandy. The topic of conversation moved onto the news of the day: the looming garment workers' strike.

"Rubbish," R.C. said waving his cigar expansively. "You get these Kikes coming in and bringing all these strange ideas, planting them in people's heads. If you ask me, every damn one of 'em should be sent back."

"Evidently, he's never heard of the Pogroms." Edward murmured as he took a sip of his brandy, causing Carlisle to choke on his own drink.

"I'm afraid that's not a possibility," Carlisle said calmly once he'd caught his breath, but Edward could see that his ears were turning a bit red, a sign of his discomfort at R.C.'s cavalier attitude.

"No offense Carlisle," R.C. began and Edward knew that regardless, Carlisle would be offended, "but you are a bleeding heart radical. These people come here and expect us to change to their ways, and not consider that we were perfectly fine going right along without them."

"I'm sure that's what the American Indians thought," Edward said quietly enough that Carlisle was the only one to hear.

"Unions, bah! And women's suffrage, I tell you Royce, when you and Rosalie get married; you have to get these radical ideas out of her head," R.C. slapped Royce on the shoulder.

Royce, typically, had no argument to offer his father, but Edward could see that he was flushed. A small crowd of men stood around them, though not adding to the argument, they mostly seemed to agree with R.C.'s attitude.

"The conditions these girls work under are deplorable," Edward said. "And girls they certainly are. Hardly any of them at Cooper Union were over twenty…"

"Ah, I see we have another radical in our midst," R.C. narrowed his eyes at Edward. "Listen to me, son. Nothing these girls try will change things. The Garment Workers Union is a joke, not one of us owners takes them seriously. You mark my words: none of this talk of walk out or work stoppage will amount to anything."

Edward hoped with all his might that Bella and her friends would prove him wrong.

The evening progressed in much the same manner. Thankfully, R.C. was forced to stifle his opinions once they were ensconced in their private box at Carnegie Hall and the performance began. As the Italian tenor sang, Edward's thoughts once again drifted towards Bella. He couldn't help but think she'd enjoy hearing her mother's native language represented in such a beautiful setting.

After the performance ended, they parted ways with the Kings in the lobby. When Royce gently kissed Rose's gloved hand, R.C. scoffed, "Kiss her proper boy." He said giving him a slap on the back and causing Rose to turn bright red.

Once they were in their car and on the way home, Edward opened his mouth to begin a tirade on R.C. King and his impropriety, but Rose cut him off with a glare.

"Not a word Edward." She bit out. In tense silence, the car moved through traffic towards home.

 _Masher- a dated term for a man who accosts women, or inflicts his unwanted intentions upon them._

 _Use of the word Kike is believed to have started at Ellis Island. When immigrants came through, if they could not sign their name were told to use and X instead. Many Jews who came through refused, saying that an X too closely resembled a Christian cross and instead asked to use a circle or kikel in Yiddish. I, in no way mean any offense by its use, it is used in a historical context._


End file.
